and then it is later.


in soft, mellowing, delicate beings.
an excuse for a weakening will.
everything settles as the skin moulds itself around unacceptable foreigners.
that in itself, cannot be cleared.


i dont think i've ever told you.
how much you've deposited in my life.
even when you were of an opposing pole.
all of it, better and surpassing.
oh how i grit when i lose my defence.
then again, it will soon be the last thing on my fingers.


keane's style is actually rather overlooked.
i believe they're worthy of greater appreciation.


ahh yes.
happy valentine's to all.


oh simple thing where have you gone
i'm getting old and i need something to rely on
so tell me when you're gonna let me in
i'm getting tired and i need somewhere to begin.

perfection at 6:21 PM